The Snow of Bleak Falls Barrow
by NomNomPacMan
Summary: A ghost story.


I don't think that I've wrote a story in about 5 months now. Holy crap. I've decided to write a quick story, no second or third parts to it. It's a Ghost story, so be aware if you're scared easily. I've no idea how deep or scary it might me, but just a warning. Enjoy!

* * *

A cold front had moved into Whiterun hold, leaving not a pillow, not a sheet, but a blanket. A blanket, of snow. The children laughed out in the cold, throwing snowballs and drinking spiced cider. Even some of the adults joined in, having not played for a long time. The water surrounding the Gildergreen had frozen, and blops of snow fell off of the re-bloomed tree. The sun was beginning to set, and people were moving indoors and poking their dying fires. As the sun set, a warm glow accompanied by a smoky smell rose up from the city. A newcomer, Thornjolf, had just entered The Bannered Mare. He had quite a day, for he had delivered a package to Falkreath from Chorrol, a days journey. The Jarl of Falkreath had given him a letter to deliver to Markarth's Jarl, but it would take a day to deliver it, as the Forsworn activity had doubled recently and the letter was to not be delivered at night. He had asked around and found that The Bannered Mare was the best place around, paid for a bed, and gotten dinner. He had eaten a bowl of beef stew, drank a bottle of Honningbrew Mead, and was feeling quite sleepy.

"It's times like these, when the snow blows on the wind and the cold bites through the smallest of cracks that I like to tell a good...(he was pausing, almost waiting for a crack of thunder)... ghost story," Simnir announced.

The entire inn grew silent. Everyone look up from their meals or books at him, and the very sound of the wind outside grew quieter, almost like the snow wished to hear the story.

"Oh come on people, it's just a little tall tale, nothing to be afraid of!" said Hulda, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, I assure you, this is no tall tale," whispered Simnir. "Who wants to hear it?"

No one replied. You could literally hear the snow melting on the roof.

"How about this. I'll buy cider for everyone."

Still nothing.

"And I'll pour some Cyrodilic Brandy in each mug."

Murmuring instantly broke out in the inn. Cyrodilic Brandy? It was a difficult liquor to find in such a northern part of Tameriel, and nearly impossible to get now that the Stormcloaks were ambushing every Imperial transport they laid eyes on. It was an offer you couldn't refuse.

"Alright Simnir, tell your story," said Hulda, pulling out seven mugs and filling them with cider. "I'll put the cider on your tab."

"Cheers love," said Simnir, handing a bottle over to her. She pursed her lips and divided the bottle's contents into the seven mugs, then handed them all out.

"Ahh, Cyrodilic Brandy. Home again. Never thought of putting it in cider though," blurted out Thornjolf.

Everyone looked at him.

"What do you mean it reminds you of home?" asked Hulda for everyone.

"Oh, I'm a courier for the town of Chorrol, so I have this stuff sometimes," he replied, a bit embarrassed. Luckily, everyone seemed to accept this answer and turned back to Simnir.

"Alright. Now that everyone has their cider, it's time for my story. I call this one... (pausing for that nonexistent thunder again)... The Snow of Bleak Falls Barrow!"

Complete silence in the inn, except for crackling of fire and the howling of the wind.

"It was a night, much like tonight. The ghosts of the long gone Snow Elves had raced through Whiterun Hold and left their tears in the wind and on the ground. A young boy by the name of 'Thomas' had to deliver a bottle of wine to his parent's friends in Riverwood. It was rather dumb, to be honest, but his parents had little common sense."

"Thomas was a rather sad child, as he had little muscle or friends, but he did have smarts. But for a male Nord, you needed brawn, not brains. He had managed to make it to Riverwood and delivered the wind, but declined to warm up. He wanted to get back home and crawl into bed. He had just crossed the bridge after Riverwood and a cross in the road was coming up. He knew that one way was the way back to Whiterun, but the other way went somewhere bad. It was a bad place, cold and terrifying. He had seen the Barrows from the Market Square when the sun shown just right, and it scared him just to look at it."

"He was approaching the cross when he saw it. A little girl. She almost seemed to glow in the cold, dark night. She was facing away from him, but she turned right as he came up to her. He could see through her. Why?"

"Are you going to help me?" she asked.

"Help you with what?" he asked.

"Please help me," she asked , and ran up the path. The bad path. The Barrows path.

"Wait!" he cried. "We shouldn't go up there!"

But she was silent, running up the path, making not even a sound. The very snow seemed to go through her, almost like she wasn't even there.

"Please come back and tell me!" he cried, chasing after her.

She then turned left, running straight towards the Barrows. Something made Thomas follow her. He wasn't sure what, he just knew that he wanted to help her.

"Please, I'll help you! Just don't go in there!" he yelled.

She didn't listen. She ran up to the big door and waited.

"Please help me," she said.

"Help you with what?" he asked, breathless.

"Please, open the door," she asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea..." he mumbled.

"Please. open the door," she repeated.

"Alright, alright, fine," he said.

He gripped the large, cold ring and pulled the door open. She walked in, so he followed her. The Barrows interior was beautiful, not even a stone out of place. A large fire was built in the middle of the hall, with about three figures surrounding it. They were deep in conversation, so they didn't notice the two children entering the hall.

"I can't believe it didn't work. Again! What is Hagnar going to say?" said the first figure. He was muscular and had a sword strapped to his side.

"I don't care what that oaf says anymore. 'Oh, little people or children work best! Just find some kid and they'll work!' Spriggan crap," the second figure said in a mocking voice.

"Oh whatever. At least they taste good," the first figure replied.

"You know, I always say that kids taste the best. No alcohol, drugs, not even holy water or anything in their little systems. Too bad there's not more of it in their bodies," replied the second figure.

The third figure suddenly threw a small bag to the side, onto a pile of... were those... bodies? Was that even a bag? What were these men doing? All these thoughts swirled around inside of Thomas's head.

"Ahhh... That feels good. I should only have kids from now on!" cried the third figure, rubbing his stomach.

"No, you can't do that! We need kids to grow up and then we can get them. I know it's hard to go back, but you get used to it again," said the first figure.

"Ok, so you just had her, so when Bornjolf gets back and that kid doesn't work, I get them," said the second figure.

"You just got someone! It's my turn!" cried the first figure.

"Maybe it's Bornjolf's turn..." said the third figure.

What are they talking about? thought Thomas. Having people? What in the world?

Suddenly, the door behind them slammed open, and a blast of cold air rushed in. A large man with dark hair and dark clothes walked in. He was a huge man, tons of muscle, but a beautiful face. Lightly peppered with stubble, but flawless besides that.

"Ahhh... Bornjolf! Who do we have now?" cried the first figure.

"Unfortunately, no one. Couldn't find any kids walking around, and I don't feel like breaking into any houses just yet. Might as well rest," said Bornjolf, closing the door and walking towards the fire.

"Aw, that's a shame. I really wanted to get out of here. I guess we're spending another day here," said the second figure.

"Yeah, I just couldn't find any kids walking around. Luckily, there's a kid spying on us. I'll just go get him," said Bornjolf, getting up and walking towards Thomas.

What? thought Thomas as Bornjolf reached over the rock and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

Thomas finally got a look at Bornjolf's face. It was perfect, literally. Except for one thing. The eyes. The were red, as red as blood. And finally, Thomas but two and two together. The eyes, the bodies, the talk of eating people.

"Vampires" he breathed.

Thomas had heard about Vampires before. They were everywhere, in his storybooks, he heard his parents talking about them, even the Jarl had issued a bulletin to avoid them.

Bornjolf smiled, revealing a normal row of teeth. Extremely white, yes, but normal teeth. Until his fangs descended. Then they didn't look so normal.

"Ah, the child knows us. How nice. At least the formalities are out of the way now," said Bornjolf, dragging him over to the fire.

"Oh my gods, Bornjolf, we are so sorry, we didn't know-" stammered the first figure.

"Shut up Bjred. You've already failed enough, I don't need to listen to you stutter. Get out now, and return in the morning," snapped Bornjolf.

"Yes sir," Bjred mumbled, and walked away slowly.

"You two, go with him. NOW!" yelled Bornjolf.

"YES SIR!" yelled the other two, running away.

Bornjolf smiled evilly at Thomas, and dropped him into a seat.

"So, you know that we're vampires. Excellent. I won't have to describe what or who we are. I assume that you wonder why we're here?" he asked.

"Umm... yes? I mean yes!" stammered Thomas.

Bornjolf lit a pipe, and blew a smoke ring.

"I'm sorry, but I can't exactly tell you why. I should be asking you why you're here!" he laughed.

Suddenly, the girl who led Thomas up to the Barrows walked in front of them and pointed at Bornjolf.

"You..." she said in a whispery voice, glaring at him.

Bornjolf sighed, and put his head into a hand.

"You..." she repeated.

"Yes, it's me," he sighed.

"YOU!" she screamed.

"Yes, it's me. But not you," he said, snapping his fingers.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, and turned red. She burst into flames, and a white vapor drifted into the fire in front of them.

"I'm sorry about that. Sometimes they don't want to die, so they stick around. She's not here anymore," Bornjolf said.

Thomas looked at him, with fear on his face.

"Now, here's why you're here. We are attempting to bring an old god back, an unnamed god. He's supposed to be extremely powerful, but uncontrollable. Normally. That's why the ancient nords locked him away, literally destroyed him. But bits and pieces of him were scattered, and locked away here, at the Barrows. They say that the only way that he can be brought back is for him to placed into a human being. But supposedly putting him into children allows you to be able to control him. That's why you're still here. We want to take control of him and use him to take over Skyrim.

"Wait, you don't mean..." Thomas said.

Bornjolf smiled and clapped his hands. Two pairs of hands gripped his shoulders, holding him down. He looked up and Bjred was holding him down. Bornjolf got up and walked over to a chest. He casually sifted through the contents of the chest until he removed a small green bottle. He took out a linen and dabbed some of the potion onto the linen. He walked over and dabbed the potion onto Thomas's neck. Thomas struggled, but couldn't get away obviously. The potion felt cold, and seeped into his veins. The vampires waited for a minute or two, with baited breath. Bornjolf sighed, and sat back down.

"Another dud. Oh well I guess. Feeding time!" he cried.

"Wait... wha-" said Thomas.

And then it happened. A cold pair of fangs sank into the left side of his neck. He screamed, and then another pair sank into the right side. He screamed as loud as he could, and watched Bornjolf smile as his vision became blurry. He passed out. His screams echoed out of the Barrows, carried by the snow all the way to Whiterun.

That morning, Bornjolf and his thugs were laughing around their fire. They still hadn't found the right child, but they were in high spirits. They had gotten close a couple times, but still not there.

"Ugh, Bjred put the bodies on the fire. They're starting to stink," said Bornjolf.

"Yes sir," said Bjred.

He walked over to the pile of bodies and started putting them on the fire. What were their names? Edista, Bujona, Argirird, Heddse, and, oh what was his name? Oh yeah, Thomas. Bjred actually thought he would be it, but he wasn't. Oh well... He grabbed Thomas's shoulders and picked him up. Suddenly, Thomas opened his blood red eyes and screamed as his fangs grew in. Bjred dropped him and backed away. Bornjolf turned around and looked at Thomas. Thomas stopped screaming and got up. He looked at his hands, his chalky white hands. Was he a...

"Well well... I've always wanted a son..." whispered Bornjolf.

"The end," said Simnir.

The inn was deadly silent. It was strangely frightening.

"On that note, I think it's time for everyone to head off," said Hulda, obviously spooked.

Everyone said goodnight and went off to their homes. Thornjolf shivered and went up to his loft, and quickly fell asleep, though he did not sleep well that night. Hulda stoked the fire and returned to her bar. She looked at the back window and saw a black figure at it. She was frightened, but quickly realized it was just a tree. Of course, she planted that very tree a couple days ago.

"No need to get spooked Hulda, it was just a little story," she told herself.

A boy stopped looking through the window. He had a black coat on, dark black hair, blood red eyes and blood red lips. His skin was as white a snow.

"Yes Ms. Hulda. Just a story," he whispered.

A tall man walked over and put his hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

"Read to go Thomas?" asked Bornjolf.

Thomas smiled.

"Yes dad."


End file.
